Page 53 of Lord Carlisle's Enticing Lure
Inside her satin pouch, too, was one other useful item Franchot had not seen. She would hope he never did. Not until she needed it.
Chapter Eighteen
Clive was gingerlyclimbing out of his tub when a knock came at the sitting room door. He had summoned enough strength to bathe quickly to meet his two friends, Langley and Halsey, downstairs at their prearranged time of ten o’clock. But he was late.
He glanced at his pocket watch upon the far table. Ten fifteen. Well, three men attacking a fellow wearing nothing but the suit he was born in, at five in the morning, definitely meant that at thirty-four years of age, a bloke was a poor wreck of a fighter.
Toweling off, he suppressed groans and grimaced at the pain—and at repeated knocks on his door. He grabbed smalls, fawn breeches, and a shirt, then shuffled barefoot for the door. “Coming! Coming!” he groused.
“Good God,” he exclaimed, his shoulders slumping as he stared at Halsey and Langley, “am I glad to see you.”
Both men strode in, their brows shooting high as they looked Clive over.
“What in hell happened to you?” Langley winced, closing the door with a quick hand. “The receptionist came into the dining room and told us you had an altercation here last night.”
“A polite way to phrase an abduction.”
“No! Giselle?” Langley was aghast at Clive’s scowl.
Halsey cursed. “Let’s sit down, for God’s sake.” Then he put twofingers to his own nose. “I hope the other man’s face is as colorful.”
Clive swallowed a wry laugh. “I am doubling up on my visits to Gentleman Jack’s very soon.” He led them to the settees and chairs, a hand out toward the tray. “If you’ve not yet had breakfast, please do so.”
“You’ve hardly touched it,” Halsey said. “Sit and eat. You look like you need it.”
“I’m afraid I’ve had my guts rearranged recently and I’d embarrass myself if I ate. But I will pour for us all. Coffee, yes?” Clive did as he’d said and passed around cups. He took two sips from his own. “I trust Annabelle and Terese are well?” he asked of Langley.
“Very well. Bella asks for you. We tell her you are traveling for your work but will arrive home soon. Terese is fine, anxious to hear about you and Giselle.”
“Have you married?” Clive asked, hoping the two of them had made themselves happy by doing so.
“Terese will not take vows until you are home, safe and sound. I agree with her. Weddings are for family.”
Clive tried to smile. “Thank you. You will not share my sorry state with her when you return. I will not have her worry.”
Langley grew furious. “Hell, man,Iworry! I’m surprised you can walk!”
“There is that,” Clive said with sarcasm. “I’ll go put on a better face, if you’ll excuse me.”
In his bedroom, he paused to inhale. Calmed by his friends’ presence, he was nonetheless irritated with himself that he had to admit to them that he had failed to protect the woman he loved. The one woman in this world whom he needed to save from whoever in damnation had attacked her and carried her away from him—and he had foundered.
He muttered about his need to find her. Buttoning his shirt, winding a simple knot in his plain cravat, he took off hangers a waistcoatand a frockcoat, then ran a comb through his hair.
Christ.Even his scalp hurt. In the warm, soothing waters of his bath, he had seen the damage done to him by the intruders. Not much of him was left untouched. Save his dangly bits. Kind of them, the buggers.
He grimaced, the errant reminder rising, as it had done a hundred times since this morning, that when the men stole into their rooms, Giselle was bare to her skin. He ground his teeth that those hooligans would take advantage of that, abuse her, horrify her, hurt her in the worst way any man could injure a woman.
He cursed beneath his breath and strode back in to his friends.
“Tell us,” Langley urged him when Clive had taken a chair and picked up his coffee cup.
“Three men came before dawn,” he said with bitterness. “They had a key and stole in. I was awake, not it seems because I heard them, but perhaps because I perceived them or the danger they presented. In any case, when they barged in, I had that poker there in hand.”
His two friends eyed the long iron rod on the floor where Clive had left it.
“As you can see, my skills are not up to fighting off so many men at once. I passed out from their attack. When I began to come around, I saw them lead out Giselle.”
He would not add details of his state of undress, nor that he’d been restrained with hands and ankles tied. The despair of his inability to save Giselle ate him to the bone. He’d deal with that in days to come as he healed his physical wounds. No need to emphasize to his friends his self-ridicule at his failures. He knew them all too well.
